Sirius- The Lieutenant fanfic

November 23,1834

One of the first things Daniel Rooke learned about Antigua was that wind did not dance there. Sure, wind did prance around him during his childhood in Portsmouth and his fleeting moments in New South Wales, but in Antigua, rather than dancing, the wind bullied him, spraying salt into his face as he lived in this seaside town.

It was because of this that looking up at the stars, almost but not completely made painful by his vivid memories, was far more taxing, but that certainly did not halt his endless thirst for knowledge. He stood outside a school he had built, holding a worn but still useful telescope.

A young boy, near the same age as the Cadigal girl he befriended in New South Wales, crept up to the man, curiosity scarcely hidden inside his spasmodically heaving chest. To him, finding the words to ask questions was as fraught with difficulty as recognising the Sirius and Betelgeuse was easy to Rooke.

The struggle was mutual, as Rooke had trouble learning the languages of the slaves. He had learnt most of the words in several languages but could not find the heart of them, to turn basic sentences into an exchange of ideas and emotions. He desperately wished for a teacher as clever, observant and inquisitive as his long-lost companion Tagaran, but for most of the slaves these traits had been washed away by a sea of oppression and hopelessness, the same sea that had dragged them across a frightening world.

Rooke nearly jumped out of his skin when William lightly tugged on his arm, which was low as he set up the telescope with a tired smile on his face.

'What...do....do...' William asked. Rooke peered closely at the boy, a familiar sting of confusion biting him like a dog as big as Canis Major. The boy pointed to the telescope.

'Oh, yes. Well, I am setting up this telescope so I can view constellations.'

The boy's face was contorted with uncertainty. Rooke sighed, the ageing process causing his resolve to wither away. He decided it was best to look through the telescope and let himself drown in the sea of stars.

He began to imagine Tagaran spending her nights gazing at the night sky. He knew that the constellations were quite different there, but he was absolutely unquestioning in his belief that, possibly after kissing her children goodnight, she would look up at the white balls of fire and allow a tear to slip down her cheeks as memories flooded her mind. She would have grown and changed, but would surely kept her most enchanting attributes.

It took Rooke a few seconds to recognise the cool droplets of water running down his face. He turned his head from the telescope and looked at the boy now sitting below him. William held his cheeks in his hands, his elbows pushing into his alarmingly thin thighs as he sat with legs crossed.

Rooke noticed that William looked highly similar to Tagaran, and even had the same willingness to learn despite the difficulties with performing such a task. His eyes were wide with innocence, causing Rooke's frail body to regain a modicum of strength. If a boy who had seen his parents taken away from him could still show a big smile, what excuse did Rooke have?

Rooke grinned and picked the boy up by the hand. 'I'll show you how to use it. This here is the lens, and this is the primary mirror, which captures light in such a way that you...'

They boy's incapability of comprehension was fated to override his eagerness to learn if Rooke did not act quickly. 'I'm not really showing you, am I? Look through this.' He racked his brain for the correct words. 'This is quite challenging for the both of us, isn't it?' He finally spoke the words for 'look here' in William's language.

He lowered the telescope and guided William's hand towards the focuser. He then pointed to the eyepiece.

After a few minutes of wonderment on the William's part, the boy puffed out his chest as if preparing to be given a medal for understanding this strange but kind man. Rooke himself felt pride at climbing over the armed barrier between the two languages, without so much as a scratch on either head.

He thought this much too soon.

A group of pale-skinned men surrounded the two intelligent people, revolvers snug in their hands, as if they had used them many times before.

'You're the one who's been freeing 'em, yes?' One of the men, the tallest of the four, asked in a deep, coarse voice. 'I want my slaves back.'

Rooke almost choked on a gasp. 'I-I bought them. You don't own them anymore. And besides, slaves have been emancipated.'

A shorter, stockier man put on a surly expression. 'And whose fault is that? What are they even supposed to do now that they've got no jobs? It's ruining everybody.' The man pushed the muzzle of his revolver into Rooke's neck, right above the throat. William tried to keep his sobs quiet as he hid behind Rooke.

'Well, I educate them,' Rooke explained, his voice trembling like branches in a storm. The wind continued to torment him.

A third man, clearly having enough of Rooke's 'nonsense', snatched William and threw him to the ground, knocking the telescope. He aimed his revolver at the boy's head and pulled the trigger.

William's scream was cut short. He lay next to the telescope, which gained a noticeably large scratch on the main tube.

The men ran away, one of them howling with victorious laughter. Rooke's breathing shook as he kneeled towards the fragile boy. He could not help but be overwhelmed by a sense of guilt as he felt like he was the one who was suffering the most. He felt as though cruelty had the ability to affect not just the powerless boy, but also the comparatively powerful Rooke.

The wind punched his lungs as an impossible wish swirled around his gut. 'If only I had time to save him.'

He stood up and looked up at the stars, tasting the salt of his tears.